


Back on the Ice

by i_am_still_bb



Series: Gathering Fiki - 12 Days of Christmas (2020) [1]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends, Ice Skating, M/M, enemies to friends to lovers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28102098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_still_bb/pseuds/i_am_still_bb
Summary: Anders and Mitchell are each others' competition on the ice, but after Mitchell's injury Anders offers to help.
Relationships: Anders Johnson/John Mitchell
Series: Gathering Fiki - 12 Days of Christmas (2020) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048309
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9
Collections: GatheringFiKi - 12 Days Of Christmas 2020





	Back on the Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gathering FiKi's 12 Days of Christmas 2020.
> 
> Inspired by this _gorgeous_ photoset!

Anders thinks he remembers the first time he really noticed Mitchell. They must have been about eleven years old, because the black dance pants they wore that were supposed to fit snugly really just hung around thin legs and bony knees. 

Mitchell beat him at that competition. He was second to Anders’ third. Anders does not remember who got first. That does not matter. The only thing that mattered was that Mitchell and his smug smile were higher on the podium than he was. 

-

They trained at the same arena, but they had different coaches and different schedules so they did not see each other much except for open skates, competitions, and shows. It was at one of these shows where Anders learned that Mitchell’s name was actually John. But, more importantly, he learned that Mitchell hated being called John.

Schedules changed and suddenly they shared a lot of ice time.

Anders made a point of calling Mitchell John whenever he had a chance. The dark glower that he always got in response sent a shock of thrill down his spine. And he did it more.

Anders failed more than one jump because he was too focused on where Mitchell was and what Mitchell was doing.

-

When they are older Anders started spending a lot of time watching Mitchell skate. He took notes on what jumps Mitchell landed consistently, which ones he failed. And then Anders made a point of practicing until he could land the jumps that Mitchell could not. 

He also noticed the breadth of Mitchell’s shoulders and his rough grace. But Anders did not make any notes about those, at least not on paper. He was also simultaneously appreciative and annoyed by the ubiquitous dance belts that they have all been wearing for years at this point. 

-

Because Anders always watched Mitchell’s skates, because he knew Mitchell’s routines almost as well as he knew his own, he saw the fall coming before anyone else. He saw the slight hesitation when Mitchell bent his knees in preparation for the triple axel that Anders had seen him practice and land nearly a thousand times in practice. 

Mitchell’s grin had taunted Anders the first time he landed it, because Anders had not even attempted a triple and sometimes he still failed to land the double. After that day Anders had practiced his axel jumps incessantly, but he still could not land a triple consistently.

He wonders what makes Mitchell hesitate this time. 

Mitchell’s skates touch back down on the ice. His feet shoot out from beneath him. He falls back. The sounds of his head cracking against the ice cannot be heard over the tinny music coming through the speakers. There is a collective inhale. A pause. A held breath. Waiting for Mitchell to get up and wave to the crowd as they clap in support. But he does not get up. His coach and an E.M.T. are on the ice in moments. 

A smear of blood is left when they carry Mitchell off the ice. 

\- 

After that Anders does not see Mitchell around the ice, but he hears plenty of rumors. Something about concussions, “doctors told him he could never skate again,” blindness, wheelchairs, each rumor is more outrageous than the last. 

Anders tries not to listen to them. He tries not to worry. But it is hard when the mothers never stop talking, and when Mitchell does not come back. 

Standing on top of the podium feels hollow when he cannot look down and see Mitchell standing at a lower spot.

-

Anders’ gear is slung over his shoulder and he had hoped to get some work done, but he detours to the rink to see the late afternoon session that is usually full of children just learning how to skate and some older folks coming out to shake off the cobwebs. 

“How are they doing?”

The beginners coach looks his way and then back to the rink just in time for one of the girls to fall down. “Get up! You’ll be fine!” The coach encourages.

“Not terrible actually. Some of them might actually have some level of talent.”

Anders rests his elbows on the wall. 

“Those two,” the coach points, “get on pretty well. I’ll probably have them start working on pairs. That one…”

“Pairs? Really? There are only a few boys at the most in each age group and you want to relegate one to pairs skating already?”

The coach shrugs, “Not all boys can be single skaters and neither can all girls.”

Anders hums. 

He pushes off the wall, “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.” 

Anders is about to turn his back on the rink, but then something catches his eye. He grins. He would recognize that form anywhere.

-

It is late when Anders finds himself in the lodge’s bar. He had dinner with some friends. It ended and he did not feel like going home. 

And he sees the familiar form for the second time in one day after not seeing it for many months.

Anders sits down on one of the wooden barstools at the polished bar.

“So I see that the rumors aren’t true.”

Mitchell glances in Anders’ direction. “What do you want, Anders?”

Anders orders another drink for himself. “Do you want another?”

Mitchell nods.

Once the new drinks are placed in front of them on napkins bearing the lodge’s logo Anders says, “I saw you in the rink earlier. I have to be honest, I am excited to have some real competition again. Besides, I was worried that I had seen the last of you in those tights.”

“That was my last skate.”

Anders’ eyes go wide. “What? Why?” 

“Fuck off. You should be glad.”

“No, seriously.” Anders turns on his barstool to face Mitchell. He reaches out to touch his shoulder. “Why?”

“You probably know why,” Mitchell grumbles bitterly. “I assume that the old biddy gossip line is still going strong.”

“It is. But they’re hardly ever right. From what I can see you’re not blind, wheelchair bound, and I saw you skating so I guess that your doctors didn’t tell you to never skate again.”

This time Mitchell actually turns in Anders’ direction when responding. “No. It’s none of those, but it is because of my fall. It left me with more than just this.” He brushes his hair away to reveal the thick scar above his right ear.

“Shit.”

“I’ve been skating at the Y, but for my last skate, I wanted to do it here, where everything started.”

Anders takes a sip of his drink. “But why quit at all?”

Mitchell spins his glass on its condensation. “Since the accident I haven’t been able to land more than a single jump.”

“Have you—” Anders starts, but Mitchell interrupts him.

“I can assure you that I’ve tried everything. I’ve even dragged my coach, a jumps coach, and a therapist, and a physical therapist down there to watch me fuck everything up. It was bad enough to fail in front of them, much less the people who saw me succeed for so many years.”

“You haven’t tried one thing.”

“Yeah. What’s that?” Mitchell snaps. 

Anders drains his glass. “You haven’t tried skating with me.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. Come on, John.” Anders plucks Mitchell’s drink from his fidgety fingers and drains it.

“I guess it won’t hurt,” Mitchell grumbles as he follows Anders from the bar. 

\- 

“Why do you have a key?”

“Shush,” Anders scolds with a laugh. “I have my ways.”

“Scandalous.”

“Not really. I just bought Robert the janitor a lot of coffees over the years.”

“Mhm.”

“It’s true!

“Where are you going?”

Mitchell holds up his bag. “To get changed.”

“Fuck that.” Anders pushes open the doors to the rink. He relishes the chill rush of air that is familiar to him as his own bed.

“You want me to try and jump in this?” Mitchell gestures to his snug tracksuit bottoms, flannel, and bomber jacket.”

Anders snorts, “Of course not. There’ll be no jumping today. Plus, I’m in jeans.” He gestures to his blazer, the tie that hangs loosely around his neck and his skin tight jeans that clearly have a high spandex value. 

They sit shoulder to shoulder on the seats as they lace up—Anders’ skates white and Mitchell’s black. They had done this hundreds of times, but there had always been the buzz of competition between them. Now the buzz is something else. 

Anders steps onto the ice. The glide is easier than breathing; his body just does as he wants with hardly a thought. He turns back to Mitchell who is standing by the edge; his feet still planted on solid ground, a hand resting on the wall. 

Anders holds out a hand.

Mitchell looks from it to Anders’ face. He takes a deep breath. He takes Anders’ hand and allows Anders to pull him onto the ice.


End file.
